Word Play
by London Sparrow
Summary: 'A sharp retort came to mind, but Elizabeth bit down her tongue until she tasted blood. Refusing to turn, she kept her eyes on the frigid waters - surely nothing could survive in these depths - and delivered a short, clipped answer: "Excellent. I should hate to be predictable, Captain Barbossa."' One-shot; set during AWE. Implied Barbossabeth.


Elizabeth shivered as she stood at the starboard rail of the _Hai Peng_. The winds that gently pushed the ship forward on its journey had also become cruel to the passengers on board, sending chills and illness throughout the crew. In a brief moment of rash anger, she resented Barbossa for dragging them out of the comforts of warmer climates and into the unforgiving terrain of lost souls. She rubbed her arms, seeking both warmth and defense from the guilt that gripped her heart in icy fingers. Her temper had worsened with each passing day as the ship approached its destination, and the reminder that she would have to answer for her deeds pressed down upon her.

She dug her nails into the splintered wood of the ship's rail. Curses unfit for a lady of her stature perched on the tip of her tongue, begging to be released. _If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't be here._ An oath flew from her lips.

"Hardly the type of words I'd expect to hear from you, Miss Swann."

A sharp retort came to mind, but Elizabeth bit down her tongue until she tasted blood. Refusing to turn, she kept her eyes on the frigid waters - surely nothing could survive in these depths - and delivered a short, clipped answer: "Excellent. I should hate to be predictable, _Captain_ Barbossa."

His title left her mouth in the form of a sneer. In her mind's eye, there came a vision of a night long ago, when she had stood upon a deck - not unlike this one - and faced this very man, addressing him in a formal tone as the captain of the ship. How young and naive she had been!

The aged pirate chuckled as the echoes of his boots striking the planks grew in volume until he came to stand beside her. She watched, through her peripheral vision, as he stretched out his arms and placed his hands on the rail, caressing the wood in an almost intimate fashion, as though he and the ship were connected in a way that even lovers could not fathom. His rings glinted in the harsh glare of the sun and she found herself fascinated by these trinkets - though she would be willing to wager that the ruby on one finger was worth more than her own jewels in the governor's mansion - and the stories they undoubtedly held. Were these the ill-gotten profits from an unfortunate soul who had met his end at the taste of steel? Even now, despite her own record, stained crimson by the blood of the men she had slain, the thought caused her stomach to roil.

Barbossa inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air that turned into a misty fog as it left his mouth. "Predictable, ye say?" he said, his words slow and drawn out, as though each syllable cost him. The hint of a wry grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Nay, Miss Swann. _Predictable_ ne'er comes to mind when I think of ye."

Curiosity mingled with mild surprise as Elizabeth finally turned her head and faced him directly. She leaned her hip against the rail and crossed her arms, lifting one dark brow, studying the lines of his face as though she might find her answers written there. "Is that so?" she asked. "Then what, perchance, would come to mind, Captain?"

He took his time with the answer. Blue eyes twinkling, he rapped his fingers on the wood, rings clinking as he thought. "Feisty," he finally said. "Spirited, dare I say, _reckless_?"

Elizabeth scowled, becoming increasingly annoyed with the older man. She opened her mouth, prepared to fire off a slew of insults and leave, but then he lowered his chin and spoke again, his tone so soft she almost missed his words in the torrent of wind and waves.

"Proud," he was murmuring. "Strong. Fierce." His lips turned up; a genuine smile. She blinked and decided she liked this far better than the usual mocking grin. "A fine woman who I be proud to fight alongside."

He turned to face her then, eyes wide and honest, revealing a deep emotion that she couldn't identify.

"Do you ever see them?" she found herself asking. His brow furrowed, and despite her instincts screaming at her to close her mouth and run, she allowed the words to come spilling out of her mouth. "The men you've killed. Do you ever see them?"

Something akin to sympathy clouded in those blue orbs as he stared down at her, caressing her face with his intense gaze. Guilt flooded her cheeks in a wave of heat. He couldn't possibly know the truth of what had transpired that fateful day when the _Pearl_ was lost - along with its captain, she reminded herself bitterly. She had told no one, not even Will, though the blacksmith had pressed her greatly for answers.

She was startled when she felt a gentle touch upon her cheek, and belatedly realized that he - the bitter, mocking, crusty pirate - was stroking her face, fingers tracing a line along her cheekbone and curving a path along her jaw.

"Aye," he whispered. "Aye. I see 'em."

Something passed between them as they each studied the other. Through their dark deeds and remorse, they were connected, similar in ways that surpassed the laws of kinship. Elizabeth looked into his eyes, took in the deep longing that resided there, and was suddenly consumed by a desire to ease his pain. She inched closer, relishing in the heat that emanated from his body and the feeling of his fingers slipping down from her cheek to cup the back of her neck as his head began to lower itself nearer to hers.

"Captain Barbossa."

The trance that had held her captive broke. Elizabeth stepped away, reaching up to tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear, blushing as she averted her eyes from the captain's. He muttered a quiet curse as he moved back and turned to face Will, who stood nearby, holding the charts from Singapore. His dark eyes assessed the captain's, daring the older man to speak as he unrolled the charts and spread them open, directing Barbossa's gaze to a particular set of thick black lettering. Elizabeth peered over the pirate's shoulder.

 _Sunrise sets. Flash of green._

"Do you care to interpret? _Captain_ Barbossa?"

Elizabeth flinched and returned to her position by the rail, wrapping her arms around her torso as she listened to Mr. Gibbs describe a phenomenon known only as the green flash. Will's demand, spoken alike to her own a short time ago, only added to the guilt brewing within her heart. He was her betrothed - a good, honest man who could provide for her, and she had betrayed him.

 _And yet._

She had not gone to him, weeping and begging forgiveness for her crimes. Instead she had hardened her heart to him, refused to allow him to comfort her after Jack's death. The ease with which she went on without him should have alarmed her, should have crippled her - to think she could live without her beloved! Yet she knew that this man, who she believed herself to have loved so dearly, would react very differently to the things she had done. He would not see the necessity of it, nor the possible path to redemption, slim as it was.

Her gaze slid along the rail until it reached a figure dressed in black, standing near the helm, then allowed her eyes to travel until they reached his weather-beaten face. Those inscrutable blue orbs briefly left the horizon to meet her own brown-eyed gaze, and though she felt a slow burn in her cheeks, she did not look away. Then he smiled, eyes dancing, and mouthed one final word.

 _Beautiful._


End file.
